


The Return

by Seven_Abominable_Snowmen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-21 20:30:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13151481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seven_Abominable_Snowmen/pseuds/Seven_Abominable_Snowmen
Summary: Sterek Secret Santa gift 2017 for herewegohappinessPrompt words: cactus and hope





	The Return

The dirt beneath his butt was hard, unforgiving, dry. But then, the dirt was this way for miles and miles. And that was all there was for miles and miles. Outposts dotted the skyline, decrepit, dusty things. Abandoned, but some still had useful items. Where there weren’t outposts, there were mirages, because it was that hot around these parts. It was that hot everywhere. Few places had water anymore. Instead, machines worked to filter sea water and in turn more of Earth died as it became piled under ridiculous amounts of leftover sea salt. Now the seas were almost gone too. 

It’d been 15 years since mankind had left “normal”. And now his world was like every dystopian movie he had ever seen-and he was a connoisseur. He’d been on his own for 10 of those. In this house for maybe 9. His father had stayed behind, gotten separated, was lost to Stiles. And Derek….

Stiles had a good home. He built it himself. It wasn’t grand, but it was sturdy and it was a roof over his head. He’d built a home for Lydia and Jackson too, close enough to his to help defend, far enough away for privacy. The privacy wasn’t for him, Stiles didn’t need privacy because Derek…

He scavenged for what he could. Food was abundant in the main cities-City central, Northpoint, Southwood, East Flint, and Western City. Those were prosperous areas filled with the rich who exploited the water industry. Food was attainable in the outer reaches, the Poor Man Zones right outside and a little in between those cities. But out here in the Dredges, life was hard. Food was scarce, a dream even. There was no farming because there was no water and the land was dead. Most of the land was poisoned with salt and if the land wasn’t buried in dense deposits then it had salt the same way as erosion or pollination-the wind. 

Life was hard, and Lydia had lost 3 children already. She had two survivors, one 12 and one 4. Stiles did his best to keep them alive and safe. It would make sense to try and make a go at living in the Poor Man Zone, but they were refugees. Lyida and Jackson refused to abandon Stiles to a solitary life, stating survival odds increased with more people working toward a communal goal. And Stiles had become persona non-grata for killing the bastard who-

Well, he was a bastard in a position of power and Stiles had fled for his life. It was worth it, to see the life drain out of that slime ball, even if it meant such a hard existence. The slimeball was a traitor, and he made Derek go away.

So yes, he’s sorry that Lydia refuses an easier life to make sure he stays alive, but he’s not sorry he killed the bastard and neither is Lydia or Jackson. They had even helped him. They just didn’t get caught. 

Or seen. If Stiles had been caught he’d be dead by now, but saved himself because he’s a lithe little asshole. 

Was. Was a lithe little asshole. At 34, he was no longer a spry, spring chicken. Not with the way he had been forced to live. His body was tired from scavenging that went days on end, from hauling whatever Jackson and he could find for miles-whether a couple cans or heavy bags full. His soul was exhausted from doing what it had to do to survive-murdering animals and sometimes other people. The bastard didn’t count. He wasn’t a cold blooded murder, but vigilante justice was the only way that dick was going to pay for sending Derek-

Goddammit, he had to stop thinking about Derek. Ten years, and Derek was in his every thought. His every labored breath.

But Derek was gone. 

+-+-+-+-+-+-

Stiles' house was adorned with cacti and other succulents. They didn't need much water, which was great because there was none. They also kept Stiles company. One in particular, Stiles' favorite, was named Ralph. But unlike the cacti in the front yard, Ralph lived in a portable pot and was fake. He had been a gift from Derek.

_"Come on, Derek. I wanna ride the ferris wheel!"_

__

__

Derek laughed as Stiles tugged him along. "Okay, okay. Hold your horses. We'll get there I promise. But I wanna do something first."

"What?" Stiles asked, still tugging. "What could be better than a ferris wheel?"

Derek laughed again, full of mirth and joy to be able to spend time with his boy. "Just trust, okay? Do you trust me?"

Stiles stopped tugging and stared seriously into Derek's eyes. "With my life." He vowed.

Derek smiled affectionately, then lead Stiles to a shooting booth.

"15 shots please."

"That'll be $5." Said the carnie.

"You betcha." Money exchanged hands and then Derek started loading the pellets that were shoved at him.

It was no surprise that he hit the bullseye all 15 times. He had been shooting targets his hole life.

"What do you want baby?" He put his arm around Stiles waist and dragged the boy to him. "Anything you want, I think. He can get anything, right?"

"Yup."

Despite the carnie's gruff demeanor and impatient air, Stiles took his time looking at everything available. There were huge bears, and pikachu, and superman themed animals. Batman bears and ugly cheap snakes and some pandas. But Stiles' eyes kept dragging back to a dancing cactus, sitting by his lonesome on the top shelf.

"Him." He pointed. "I want him. The cactus."

"You sure baby? You can't cuddle with a cactus. That bear is Batman. And he looks mighty soft."

Stiles shook his head. "I'm sure. I love Batman but I don't need a bear to cuddle with. I have you. I want Rufus."

"Rufus?" Derek asked, voice pitching high because he was startled.

"Yes, my cactus. Rufus. Gimme" he made grabby hands. The carnie rolled his eyes and huffed.

"Sure kid, whatever."

The carnie held the dancing cactus out and Stiles nearly snatched it in his excitement. But Rufus was his new baby, and had to be treated with care.

Derek smiled again and gently kisses Stiles, right there in front of a carnie and a crowd of people and he wasn't ashamed one single bit.

_"Come on, my prince. Your carriage in the sky awaits." He threw his arms around the love of his life and together they walked to the ferris wheel, content because they were together._

Rufus had heard every devastation and hard day of the last 10 years. In fact, Stiles never went anywhere without Rufus because, besides Derek and their memories, and Lydia and her family of course, Rufus was the most precious thing in the world to him. If for any reason he was unable to return home, he could lose everything in that house, but he could not and would not lose Rufus.

Rufus didn't dance anymore, his batteries long since dead, but he was no less precious. Stiles was just lucky Rufus was small enough to easily Carey around-in his sack or in his hands when his sack was full. He might not be a teddy bear Stiles could cuddle at night when he got lonely, but Stiles would shatter if he lost Rufus. His last link to Derek. His most prized possession. Probably his weak spot if he had any enemies in need of exploitation.

Maybe he was crazy, but this was a solitary life he now led.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The latest raid hadn't gone well. It had started the same old, same old. Abandoned house, cans of food, nothing but silence in the surrounding area. Just another scavenging expedition, like the 300+ billion million that had come before it. But this time the expedition didn’t go as planned. Stiles had been shot in his arm, and he hadn't managed to get the provisions he was out there for in the first place. The worst part though-

The worst part was that Rufus was broken. He had become a casualty in the fall between Stiles getting shot and Stiles ducking for cover.

He wanted to cry. He was a 34-year old man and he wanted to cry over a 17-year old plastic cactus breaking apart.

He refused to be ashamed. He refused any sort of shameful feeling if it had anything to do with the man he loved. He lost Derek, but his heart still best in his chest. It beat for Derek.

_"I'll find a way back, Stiles. I promise. I will always find my way back home to you."_

__

__

"You better, dammit!" A 24-year old Stiles sobbed, throwing his arms around his boyfriend and squeezing tight.

Hands soothed him, rubbed his back, gently, reverently. Soft lips kisses his for head. His hair. Soft sniffles were heard over his own.

"I love you Stiles. As long as your heart still beats, I will find you again. So I vow it, so it shall be done."

Stiles lifted his head and slammed his lips to Derek, the kiss salty because of their mixed tears.

"You better, you asshole. You better come home in one piece or I'll kill you myself."

"Always." He solemnly vowed.

"And don't take too long!"

_"As you wish."_

The last memory Stiles has of Derek is blurry because of his tears, watching Derek's form retreat, disappear without a look back. Because if Derek looked back, he might never go through with leaving. His shadow blended in with the night sky, with the fog in the distance, and that was it.

That was back when Stiles still lived with Derek in Southwood, with Derek's family and his dad. Living together was the best way to survive at the time, because the Hales were well off with connections. And if Stiles was going to live comfortably simply because he loved a man, then he was going to make sure his dad lived comfortably too. But that was Before. Before things went to shit and Derek was forced to disappear and didn't come home. Before the Sheriff had to go to Central City for his job. Before Stiles was forced out for going all Batman on someone's ass.

Rufus was broken. Stiles had no means to fix him. Stiles was tired and hungry and had the soul of a war-weary old man.

But Stiles' heart still beat, and he had to believe his fiancé would come home.

For now, Stiles would spare a bit of his limited duct tape reserve to keep Rufus- his dreams and memories and hopes of Derek-together.

-+-+-+-+-+-+

Stiles was sick. He was delirious and feverous and his arm was infected. But there was nothing he could do. He didn't have access to antibiotics and couldn't afford them if he did. And he refused to lose his arm, though Jackson had tried to strong arm him into conceding to it. But if he lost his arm he was a dead man in the wilderness and if he didn't lose his arm he was a dead man, so if he was going to die, he was going to die in one piece.

And maybe it was meant to happen. Maybe this meant he was supposed to join Derek on the other side. Maybe he'd get to get see Derek soon. He was so tired of fighting, maybe it was time.

_Derek._

__

__

Oh, Derek.

_I miss you._

Lydia had tried to house him in her home to help him recover, because she had been getting her nursing degree before his exile and her decision to stand by his side. But Stiles refused. If he was going to die, he was going to go in the home he built for Derek. The house that was the perfect comprise of tastes. _Their_ dream home. Even if Derek was never going to see it.

All morning long, Stiles had been seeing Derek. They were delusions, and that filled him with sadness, but at the same time they brought comfort. They were so real. Not all of them were pleasant. Derek attacked him in one of them, stabbed him a couple times. Those were intense. But the others weren’t so bad. At one point he thought Derek had actually been there, comforting him the same way he used to when anything was wrong with Stiles. He’d tuck right up against Stiles back, no matter how sweaty or gross or twitchy with anxiety Stiles was, and slowly rock him. If his nose was runny, Derek had tissues. If he had the chills, Derek wrapped them both in a burrito. When it was anxiety related, Derek started humming a lullaby he learned from his mother. Quiet enough to focus on, but not intrusive enough to distract and irritate Stiles from finding his center. But Derek was his center, so it was always all good. Considering Stiles has been devoted to Derek since he was 16, they’d been together about 18 years. And, God willing, they’d have many more together in Heaven.

But right now, Stiles was feeling sick. Because his current delusion was still rocking him gently, kissing his hair, sometimes rubbing his tummy in circles, holding him tight. For the first time, the motion of rocking was making him seasick. Sick. Landsick. Not good sick. In fact, he hoped he actually was sitting up like this delusion was leading him to believe, because if he was laying down he was probably going to choke on his vomit.

“Shh, baby. It’s okay. Let it out. You’ll be okay, I promise.” His delusion cooed, wiping his hair back.

When he looked down, he was in a different shirt then he remembered, but maybe Lydia had come by. He hoped not. She shouldn’t remember him like this.

How had he not dehydrated yet? Starved, not something he was worried about. He couldn’t keep anything down anyway. But Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he was coherent enough to take in fluids. Or made it to the bathroom. What a mess. Was this supposed to happen with a gunshot? Then again it was infected. Maybe his infection was going to his brain. Ha, brainworms. 

Phantom hands stroked his forehead, brushing away his hair. Pressure kept his left hand company. His right hand company. His phantom floating hand that had nothing to do with his body, company. Him company. He’d pretend it was Derek. He loved Derek. Derek. Come back. Why’d you even leave. Fuck you. That toebag. Fuck him. He’s dead, I killed him. I killed him for you, baby so why the fuck did you leave me. Why didn’t you come back. Why aren’t you here. You better be in heaven asshole.

“I’m in Heaven because you’re in my arms.” His imagination supplied. Oh, how it sounded like Derek. He thought he had forgotten what Derek sounded like, but that voice. Oh, that sweet voice.

“It’s me baby. I’m home. I came home.” He pretended he heard.

He asked the phantom again, “Why did you leave me?” He thought he felt moisture run down his face, but he’d been oozing so much who knew. His nose was already sore from over wiping. He had only one set of torn sheets and even then they weren’t totally ruined until now, probably. He’d worry if he’d thought he ever needed sheets ever again. 

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Stiles whimpered. “There’s always a choice.”

“Not when my return would mean your murder.” 

“Murder. Rurder. Furder. Curder. Lurder.”

A sigh. “Oh, baby.” His imagination quieted, but ghost hands still carded through his hair. He felt vertigo, and then he was rocking again. Delicious heat against his back. Precious heat. He missed Derek so much. 

“I missed you too. Once your infection is gone, I’ll tell you everything. Then I hope you’ll let me stay.”

“Of course you’ll stay.” He mumbled to the air, wishing he was really being rocked, knowing it would never happen again. So tired of scavenging and coming home to a stagnant home. “You’ll my soulmate. Together forever. Death do us part. I do.”

“I do too, baby. Go to sleep now okay?” Lips pressed against his clammy forehead.

“Okay, love you too.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-

Slowly, crusty eyes blinked open. It took a few tries, because the eyes wouldn’t open on their own. It took a couple fingers and a little rubbing. But when Stiles came to, light shined through his flimsy white curtains and dust motes danced. Stiles tried to stretch but couldn’t remember why his body was so sore. Did the scavenge not go well? Did he get enough food. Ow, his arm. What the fu-oh.

That explains the bandage. But it doesn’t explain why the bandage was there. Or why it wasn’t soaked through with puss and blood. Or why his shirt was clean. 

Not only was his shirt clean, but his house was clean too. He never had many possessions to begin with since moving out to the boonies, but looking around he couldn’t even spot the usual overabundance of dirt and dust coating all his things.

It was all sterile.

And when he looked to his left, his precious Rufus was sitting on the bedside table. But Rufus was missing his loving tape job. He looked perfect again. Oh God, had he been replaced. No! Who would do that-no. Stiles stuck the cactus in his own face and found a thin line around the arm, and another around the trunk. This was his baby, but his baby was hole again. So hole, he didn’t look broken in the first place. Remind him to thank Lydia.

Gently, mindful of his sore arm, he swung the covers off himself and sat up. It was a little cold, but not unbearable. Almost enough to send him back under his blankets, but not quite. And he was starving.

It was on his way to the kitchen that he started hearing noises. His hackles rose, but he had nothing to defend himself with. And despite feeling better, he was weak. 

“Hello?” Fuck, he’d already cheated death once. Fuck it. “Hello?” he called louder, when there was no answer.

The noises stopped. And then his heart stopped. “Stiles? That you? I didn’t expect you-“

“Derek.”

“-to be awake for another few hours. Needed your rest, you did.”

If he had been in the right mind, Stiles would have made a Yoda joke. But Stiles was not in his right mind. Stiles was currently shaking, excitement, hope, and fear were warring in his body.

“Derek.” He said a little less hoarsely.

Like an apparition, Derek appeared around the corner. All six feet of him. Broad, muscled, stubbled. 

Stubbled, that was new. But no less pleasing.

“What’s going on? Derek?” Oh boy, the rasp was back.

“It’s me baby.” Derek choked up. His eyes misted and his arms didn’t hesitate in their extention. “I’m home baby. I made it back to you.”

“Oh, _Derek_!” Stiles breathed, already running into the welcoming arms. If he went right through the apparition and ran into the wall it would be worth it to have seen Derek’s face so realistically one last time. But to his ever-melting relief, strong arms gripped him like he was precious. Oh, God, he had missed this. He stuck his head into his fiancé’s neck and breathed in the smell of home. For the first time in a decade, he was home.

Derek’s hands cherished Stiles in their up-down rub of his back. Their hips kissed in a tight grip Derek refused to lessen. His neck became a pillow that Derek nestled into, copying Stiles, breathing deep the smell of a healthier Stiles. “God, baby, I missed you so much. I’m so sorry.” Finally, Derek pulled away but he didn’t release Stiles completely. “I’m so, so sorry. I was in hiding when I got word that you had killed him. I was on my way back to you, so scared for you, but they caught me as I entered the city. I escaped, but not until they made it clear in no uncertain terms that should I make it back to you, they would kill you slowly and make me watch. Those corrupt fuckers, I swear to God I didn’t abandon you of my own free will. A world where you’re alive but we have to be apart is better than a world where you’re dead.”

Stiles ripped out of Derek’s hold, fuming. “Then why are you back.” He spit. Unfortunately his throat was too dry to produce saliva, but his point was made clear all the same. “If I’m so precious you had to stay away, why did you come back at all?”

“Because I had to baby!” Derek wailed, pleaded. His voice strained, and it warmed Stiles’ breaking heart a little. That was the voice of a man who cared. Please, God, let the man care. Even if Stiles is pissed as hell at him. “You were dying anyway. I didn’t stay away for 8 Goddamn years to watch you die!” 

“Prove I care!? Stiles look at me!” Stiles refused to budge, stayed staring at the wall. “Look at me!” Derek roared, and Stiles was whipped around and greeted with the face of his dreams. “I’m whole! I’m in one piece, and I’ve returned to you. No, it’s not what we would have chosen, no one who loves each other as much as we do would choose this separation. But I did what I had to do to keep you alive, and I’m not sorry! Stop your fucking pity party. You thought you were alone all those years? I watched you every Goddamn chance I got. I covered your ass whenever I managed to follow you scavenging. I just didn’t make it on time this time! But I was always there, because I love you. And now I’m home in one piece.” Derek gripped Stiles tightly and shook him, gently but passionately. Desperately. “I’m _home._ Please!” 

Stiles wanted to melt, he did. Derek’s words sounded so good, sounded so loving. Derek hadn’t moved on, hadn’t died, and hadn’t left Stiles alone. Not truly. There was warmth at the thought that Derek had watched him, protected him, had his back. Fear in how many embarrassing tear-filled episodes Derek must have seen. Overwhelming joy that he still loved Stiles, didn’t hesitate to embrace him. But Stiles lowered his head because he didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make it alright. He loved Derek from his scalp to his toes, but they were so different. 10 years changes a person. But it wasn’t that. That was a lie. Derek giveth, and Derek could taketh away. He could walk away again. He could disappear like a dream.

Derek didn’t like that Stiles lowered his head and refused to look at him or say anything. He fell to his knees, ignoring their loud, painful protest. This was his man and there wasn’t a thing he wouldn’t do for him. “I know you love me. Even if I hadn’t watched you, I saw Rufus. I fixed Rufus. For you.” The sob that burst out of Stiles’ took him by surprise. 

It had been Derek who fixed Rufus, not Lydia. Of course it had. The fucking symbolism blew his mind.

“Why would you have Rufus if you didn’t love me anymore?” he went on. He reached up and latched onto Stiles’ hands, imploring with him. “10 years is nothing. We’ll have 60 more if we’re lucky. That’s 6 times that amount. To love and cherish and make memories. I’ll never leave you again. I was fucking foolish. And if they try to get to you, I’ll kill them. I’ll kill them all.” The swear was ruthless and Derek meant it. An iota of Stiles relaxed. Maybe not at the killing bit, though it was obvious they had both done what they had to to survive. But Derek pledged to not leave Stiles. It was like a second proposal.

There were several things Stiles could have asked, even if some of them were “duh” questions. How did you find me? Where were you when you weren’t watching over me? Why didn’t you stay with me always? Why didn’t you come back anyway? Make the pledge to kill anything that tried to touch me, back then? Things like that. But what came out was:

“Why am I not dead.”

Derek gave a weak laugh that turned into a sob. “Because I fucking snuck into Goddamn Northpoint and stole it from their fucking hospital. Like fucking Robin Hood, except I didn’t do it for the masses, I did it to save you.” Stiles blinked and Derek stood up. “Got a present for my troubles too.” He lifted up a sleeve and revealed a nasty scar. “Best Goddamn scar I’ve ever earned. It’s a good thing I took an entire fucking backpack of needles and antibiotic, too, or else you’d be alive but all alone. I had to hide the rest of it at Lydia’s house though because they have to be refrigerated and your generator is dead, but she was nice enough-”

He kept talking but buzzing filled Stiles’ ears. “Lydia knows you’re here? She knows your alive?” 

Derek stopped mid thought and rerouted the conversation. After he blinked a couple times. “Of course she does. I had to have help. She’s always known. How else would I have found you? Been able to be your back up? Been there for you? She’s a craftly little devil-“

Fists pounded at Derek’s chest and he grunted. Good thing Stiles was weak because Derek didn’t like brusing, even at his lover’s hands. He spent a few seconds deciding whether to let Stiles release all his pent up pain or stop him, and decided to stop Stiles so he didn’t wear himself out. “Baby, stop.”

Stiles continued to wail. “But Lydia knew! The entire time, Lydia knew and neither of you motherfuckers told me.”

“We couldn’t!”

“I don’t care!” Derek held Stiles’ fists still and Stiles wailed. He cried, and hiccupped, and sniffled, wiped his runny nose with his arm, keened, and processed all his emotions. Blessfully, he fell into Derek eventually. Derek was all too happy to wrap his boy up in his arms again.

“We did what we had to do but never again. I’m with you til our dying day Stiles. I love you.”

Derek stared straight into Stiles’ eyes and vowed, unblinking.

“Life will be hard, but we’ll do it together. Maybe one day we’ll make it back to civilization, or maybe one day we’ll bring your father here to live with us. Maybe we’ll find a few kids who need help, and maybe a couple will need adopting. We’ll make this our home Stiles. Like we always wanted.”

“We can’t get legally married, I’m a wanted man.” Stiles cawed morosely. 

“We’ll say our vows before God. He’s all that’s ever mattered anyway.” Derek’s reassurance was swift and sure, like he had thought about it a lot. Like he had already decided.

Could he do this? Could Stiles take a leap of faith? He was a little more scarred then he was at 23. 20. 16. A little more wary, a lot more tired. But suddenly, waking up in the morning didn’t seem like a chore. He had what he’d been dreaming of since his dream walked out the door 10 years ago, and he was seriously debating turning that down? His infection really must have gone to his brain, that was the only explination.

“You better make an honest man out of me, mister. But Lydia and Jackson and Hannah and Tyler have to be there. And Rufus. And then we have to spend at least 2 days together undisturbed to get reacquainted. Except you have to probably sneak back into one of the zones and steal some clean, untorn sheets because none of our scavenging points ever have any. Only, if you do that and die I’ll resurrect you and kill you myself. But our marriage has to be soon, like tomorrow, or today, because I’ve waited more than 15 years to marry you if I’m being honest and I’m not going to patiently wait a second longer now that I have you back. And,” he wagged his finger, thumping Derek’s chest. Derek, who was smiling, relieved, glorious, beautiful. “ _And,_ you are never allowed to leave me ever again. In fact, I’m going to go to the fucking bathroom with you if I have to.” Okay, ew, no he wouldn’t. Maybe that was okay with some couples, but not him. But the sentiment was there and that was what mattered. “And if we can, we bring my dad home. But I really think I’m getting ahead of myself-”

Derek slammed his mouth to Stiles’ without delay, lingering, kissing, tongue pressing lips until they opened and both mouths meshed. Groans combined, pleasure spiked, souls healed.

“As you wish, baby.”

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Life was still hard, but now on scavenging missions, Stiles had a partner to watch his back-up close this time. With a peppier step, he grabbed his back, and carefully packed Rufus away, ready to ninja away with his first mission with Derek as husband and husband.

They shared space as they got ready, and Stiles find getting ready for the day easier with Derek returned to his side, both of them dancing around and gathering what they needed, both for themselves and each other, a well-oiled machine. They quickly discovered 10 years was nothing to soulmates. Instead of awkward missteps, getting used to having another person around, they were both completed by their soul’s return.

In no time at all they were dressed, standing by the door, ready to go. Derek looked at Stiles’ back, which held a familiar bulge, and laughed.

“Baby, I’m back. Why do you need the cactus with you? I’m sure Rufus will be just fine-“

“Quiet, Derek. That’s our son you’re talking about.”


End file.
